


Tact and Taciturnity

by Mmmmk (MK_Jags)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch, M/M, Pre-fall Overwatch, headcanon central
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-09-20 18:47:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9507053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MK_Jags/pseuds/Mmmmk
Summary: The story of Mike Jones, and, more specifically, of how he continually fucks himself over.





	1. Chapter 1

Spurs. _Spurs._ Michael was not an avid watcher of films, but he'd have to be a damn fool to not recognize the metallic rustling of real, true, honest-to-God spurs clanking his way. _Straight out of the old Westerns Dad used to watch,_ he recalled numbly as he lay there, bleeding like a stuck pig.

He would have laughed if he were in better condition. Of all the things to imprint on his exhaustion-addled mind as he lay dying, the last thing Mike would have expected (or wanted; who wants to go out listening to the accessories of some wannabe cowboy?) to hear was spurs. He could only wonder what kind of idiot would wear _spurs_ in this day and age as he was painfully hefted onto someone's shoulder. The spurs' clinks were soon accompanied by a warm drawl in his right ear. Whoever was carrying him gave a gruff bark in response to it, shifting Mike's weight slightly. He couldn't make out anything they were saying; as a matter of fact, Mike was pretty sure he was losing consciousness.

He faded in and out-- he jumped from being buffeted by familiar desert winds to hearing the muffled noise of a helicopter, and finally to being filled with the warm tingling of biotic healing. It was only then, as stinging warmth swelled inside his chest, that he let go, falling into an exhausted slumber.

* * *

 

It was the steady beeping of a heart monitor that Mike woke to next. It was less notable than the spurs; this sound, he was used to. His eyes and mouth felt dry and stuck, so he didn't attempt to open either as he assessed his surroundings.

He felt an IV in the crook of his arm. This, mixed with the heart monitor and the sanitized feel to the air he was breathing, immediately brought a hospital to mind. But, upon listening, he heard nothing besides the heart monitor. A hospital would never be so quiet.

The beeping of the heart monitor quickened slightly as Mike considered where else he could be. A lab was the first thing to come to mind, but he ruled that out immediately simply because he didn't know what he'd do if he was in a lab again. That left a private medbay, or some equivalent. He'd go with that for now. With that sorted, Mike moved to sit up. But, as he did, a loud electronic _ping_ sounded, making him jump.

"Hello, Mister Jones," came a voice.

"Uh... hi?" Mike croaked, completely still.

"Apologies, Mister Jones. My name is Athena. Doctor Ziegler has been informed that you are awake, and is on her way to answer any questions you may have."

Mike started to notice a certain odd quality to Athena's speech and inflection-- some metallic tone which immediately indicated to him that this was an omnic or artificial intelligence unit.

"Right. Thanks," he nodded, trying to sit up further. When he went to move his legs, however, he froze. Something was definitely, definitely _not right_. He moved his hands down to his knees, feeling for his shins.

There was nothing there.

He moved his hands to each side, as if he would find his missing pieces not far away. But, after the initial shock and denial, he soon was forced to realize that he couldn't feel anything past his knees, whether through his nerves or with his hands. _Nothing there._

He fell back against the headrest with a thump and a shuddering breath, rubbing a shaky hand down his face as he remembered. He remembered what had led up to the spurs, the stupid  _fucking spurs_ \--

The monitor was beeping fast. Too fast. He took more deep breaths, pressing a hand to his chest as if to slow his heartbeat. He tried to ignore the tightness in his chest, tried to breathe even deeper to dispel it. It felt almost as if his ribcage would collapse. He heard the door slide open to his left, and the quick, clacking approach of high heels. "Mister Jones," came a new voice, laden with concern.

"Takoda," was all he could say. Another loud _ping_ resounded throughout the room in response.

"Agent McCree has been notified. He is bringing Takoda over now," Athena informed. Mike gave a weak nod, closing his eyes and trying to calm down.

Before he knew it, there was something cool and wet rubbing his face. Takoda gave a soft _boof_ as he snuffled at Mike's cheek before placing his snout on Mike's shoulder, as if it were routine. Mike hugged the dog tightly in response, stroking his back. He stayed like that for a few minutes before he noticed that two voices were quietly conversing to his left. One of them, he recognized; it was the same drawl that had accompanied the spurs.

"--feel quite right leavin' now. Hope you don't mind none, Doctor Ziegler, ma'am."

"No, not at all; it might help to have someone his age present. Thank you, Jesse."

Mike released Takoda, who moved to the foot of the bed, curling up just within his reach. He took one last deep breath, letting out a small, dry cough.

"Sorry," Mike sighed, hands folded in his lap as he returned to his original slouch against the headboard.

"There is no need to apologize, Mister Jones. Your... reaction was certainly justified; in hindsight, I could have made this much easier for you." The heels clacked up to his bedside. "I trust you remember what happened?"

"Yeah. I guess my legs were in, uh... a little worse shape than I had thought."

"I am incredibly sorry, Mister Jones. I tried all I could, but, in the end, they were beyond even my ability to save. We have our engineer working on prosthetics as we speak."

"Mike," he grunted.

"Hmm?"

"Mister Jones is weird. My name's Mike. You're Doctor Ziegler, right?" He was aware he had practically ignored everything the doctor had just told him, but, the truth was, he didn't know how to take the news she had given him just yet.

"Yes. I am Angela Ziegler. Behind me is Jesse McCree."

"Howdy," called McCree.

"H-Howdy?" Mike responded with a poorly-suppressed laugh of surprise. Was this guy for real?

"And, as for where you are, Mike," Angela continued as if this was completely ordinary, "This is Overwatch's location in Gibraltar."

Mike froze. "Wait. Overwatch? I--This is _Overwatch?"_

"Bet yer ass it is," hooted McCree.

"Jesse," Angela tutted. Mike heard a light smack followed by a chuckle from McCree.

"So... you want the suit," Mike continued flatly, dispelling the lighthearted atmosphere immediately.

"No, no," Doctor Ziegler interjected quickly. "...Well, yes," she amended, audibly clasping her hands, "but, Blackwatch also wants you."

"Oh," Mike started, brows raised. "You want--wait, _what?"_

Takoda let out a happy bark, his tail shaking the bed, as the door suddenly slid open again, admitting two pairs of heavy, ironclad footsteps.

"Uh, hey." Mike knew that voice. "Are we interrupting?"

Mike was not an avid watcher of anything, including the news. But, he'd have to be a damn fool not to recognize the voice of Jack Morrison when he heard it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack, Gabriel, and the new kid.

"Wait-- You...  _Como?_ "

"I said you can have him." Jack glanced up from the paperwork he was filling out.

Gabriel was staring at him, almost slack-jawed. "That's it? No argument? You're just... letting me take the kid?"

"Michael is being _offered_ a position in Blackwatch, yes. Whether he _wants_ to join it or not is up to him."

Gabriel's stunned gaze morphed into a suspicious squint. "...Is there some sort of catch that I don't know about?"

"Jesus, Gabe. No, there's not a--a _catch_. I just... he's better off in Blackwatch." He slouched in his chair, refusing to elaborate. He wasn't about to list all the many, many reasons he wasn't about to put a kid in the public team of Overwatch anymore. 

Gabriel's eyebrows flew up into the fabric of his beanie. " _Better off?_ " he echoed. "I'm sorry, I must have the wrong office. I thought I was talking to, uh, Senior Patrol Leader? Is Mister Good Role Model in today?"

"Is this about McCree?" Jack demanded, fed up.

"You got it," Gabriel responded flatly.

"Look. I know that I wasn't..." He trailed off, struggling to find his point. "Not only was I wrong about Jesse, but I was generally a giant asshole to both him and you, I get that. I don't intend to repeat that mistake."

Gabriel stared hard for a few moments longer, arms crossed. Then, abruptly, he smirked, leaning forward to stare at Jack's level, eyes half-lidded. "Apology accepted," he crooned, a little smugness creeping its way into his expression.

Jack ignored the warmth rising in his ears as he pointedly looked back down at the paperwork on his desk.

"W-What does Jesse think, anyway? About Michael." It was a piteous attempt to change the subject.

Gabriel, apparently feeling merciful for once, humored him. "I think the dog alone has him convinced. He hasn't shut up about recruiting the kid since we picked him up."

"He...  _knows_ you're not supposed to pet a service dog on duty, right?"

"I actually told him to just leave it alone altogether. But, his only response was, ah, _'Mister Reyes, sir, I tell you, I will not be partin' with this here animal 'til his owner wakes, comes, and pries him from my loving hands himself, service be damned.'_ " Gabriel imitated the resident Southerner's solemn drawl.

Jack snorted. "Did he really say that?"

"Kid loves dogs. Who knew?" Gabriel shrugged, hefting his ass onto Jack's desk.

"Gabriel, that's expensive," Jack warned, gesturing to the holo-pad next to where he had sat himself.

"You, of all people, should know that this ass is worth more," Gabriel retorted, lowering his head to shoot Jack a look as he stole one of the sheets from under his pen and turned back around, ignoring Jack's look and noise of indignation. "...I thought you said you were letting Jones make the decision?" He continued after looking it over, holding up the form.

"Well, yeah," Jack began, tone defensive. "But, I mean... it's a lot of paperwork, so I wanted a head start, and... we've never really... had anyone refuse before," he finished, avoiding eye contact.

"You're precious," Gabriel said patronizingly, ruffling Jack's hair. "I'm gonna go check on Jesse, make sure he's not spoiling the dog too much. Come down when you finish, yeah?"

"Really? You sure?" Jack cocked his head. Most of Blackwatch didn't like him visiting.

"Yeah, it's fine. Just don't act like last time." He slid off the desk, crossing his arms.

"Right, yeah. Sorry... about that," he sighed, running his hand through his hair again.

"Don't worry about it, man. First impressions ain't shit," Gabriel grunted, moving to the door.

"If you say so... I'll see you then," Jack called as Gabriel walked out the door with a final flick of the hand over his shoulder by way of farewell.

Jack caught himself midway through running his fingers through his hair yet again, fixed it with a sigh, and stretched his aching shoulders.

* * *

The first thing that Jack realized as he sat face-to-face with Michael was that he hadn't seen his eyes before. They were a rich brown, a few shades lighter than Gabriel's. The pupils were blown wide, and stayed that way as Angela moved the light stand to the front of his bed, where his eyes were fixed. Blind. That, he had known. 

The second thing--Michael preferred Mike. He had corrected him as soon as Jack's greeting had left his lips. Jack took this in stride. The kid had been through a lot; he had a right to be blunt at this point.

The third thing Jack realized: Mike was incredibly bright. In under an hour, they had gone over every detail of his recruitment and then some. Jack was lucky he had gone over the paperwork beforehand, or the few questions the kid asked would have thrown him for a loop. Yet, when asked for his response, Mike said only that he would sleep on the decision, and answer when he had a clear mind and a full stomach. Jack agreed that that was probably for the best, and gave a cheery farewell as Angela shooed everyone out of his room so he could rest. 

"Man, you must've liked him," Gabriel observed as they made their way down the hallway, McCree striding in between them. 

"Nice kid. Good head on his shoulders," Jack nodded, shuffling the stack of documents in his hands. He glanced at McCree, who was uncharacteristically silent.

His expression was pensive as he stared at his own boots. In the quiet of the near-vacant hallway, Jack could faintly hear him mumbling under his breath. Jack gave Gabriel a confused look over Jesse's head, receiving a slight shrug in response.  _He's_ thinking _, Jack,_  Gabriel mouthed, feigning shock.

Jack rolled his eyes, then nearly tripped over himself as he realized they had passed the hallway to his office at least ten feet ago. He hesitated to excuse himself. It would be nice to take a break... He looked over at Gabriel, who was now testing how far he could lean into McCree's field of vision before he noticed, and let out a quiet sigh.

"Ah, shit," he exclaimed, causing the other two to start. McCree jumped again as he noticed Gabriel inches away from his face, pulling up his hands in defense before looking back to Jack.

"I gotta go back to my office, get this sent in," he continued, holding up Mike's paperwork. He slowed down to a halt, angling himself to indicate that he was about to turn back.

"Oh," Gabriel replied eloquently. "Man. Alright. See you." 

Jack gave a little wave and a weak smile as he scurried off, head drooping slightly despite himself as he approached the door of his office. 

"Commander," Athena pinged as he moved to open the door. "I should inform you that the security in your office was just disabled."

"Oh, _Christ,_ " he grumbled, running a hand down his face. "You know the drill."

"Yes, sir." 

When Jack entered, the automatic lights did not come on. The only source of illumination in the room as the door slid shut behind him was the wall of monitors which had appeared behind his desk, each screen displaying its own stern face. He knew what one, an aged woman with pursed lips in the center of the wall, was about to say, and he mockingly mouthed her words as she spoke.  
  
"We need to talk, Morrison."


End file.
